


I've seen fire and it hurts to bleed the pain.

by iamunicorn



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Death, F/F, Sadness, Soulmates, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamunicorn/pseuds/iamunicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is everywhere. She is every part of you. She'll love you forever and you'll never know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've seen fire and it hurts to bleed the pain.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies in advance.

When they came with the news, you were still. A silent storm brewing beneath the layers of bruised and battered flesh -a constant reminder of wars forever lost and hearts stolen from sunken chests. You didn't cry, you wouldn't. You were both physically and emotionally drained.

But love is a weakness. A lesson you were reminded of under the soft glow of burning candles and the whisper of lips along the column of your neck in the silence of the night. The imprint of calloused hands have stained your skin; like red wine spilling into bed sheets unkempt, but gone cold. She is embedded within you, like a tattoo marked across your heart, like the air in your lungs and the blood in your veins.

She is everywhere.

She is every part of you.

Life is not infinite and death shows no remorse.

Walls built with hardened exteriors don't warn off solemn endings. Sad girls with pretty eyes and a deadly glare cannot call off the finish; for life is a vicious cycle. It will swallow you whole and spit you back out, floundering on your back with no memory of duty or past weaknesses.

But what of life when two destined souls are ripped from each other's grasp and thrust into separate stories? How is destiny to rewrite their future endeavours when time and space is their only enemy? It grips them and holds them at arm's length of each other; close enough to feel their warmth encompass their very being, too far to hold on. Too far, that they are slipping, falling.

Gone.

No moment in time is preparation for the loss of your heart. No words cling to your mind, shouting words of redemption and peaceful endings. No voice speaks to calm and to reassure you; it wasn't your fault.

It _wasn't_ your fault.

It was your fault. It had to be.

She trusted you with everything she had. She took the rights to her life and handed them to you under your promise of safe keeping. She believed you were the good guy in a world of corrupt villains.

Now she is gone.

A pained spirit stuck in this realm, holding onto lost hope and sacrificed love. But to tell her to let go would title you a hypocrite. You wish for her to move on into a world of second chances; telling her that would be a lie. Loosening your hold on her would only cause the pain in your heart to pulse harder and deeper into your very soul. But you are selfish and you won't let go.

It is a choice you make to relive every moment you shared. It is your choice that caused yourself greater suffering. But the pressure of lips upon lips will not leave your memory, instead glued to the front of your mind. A constant reminder of better times. Firm grip of hands and strong arms encasing you in a security blanket of love and forever. But forever is not tangible. Forever is a lie they tell warriors and their dames, to instil false hope and chance.

Forever was not her destiny.

Forever was not _your_ destiny.

You warned yourself not to cry; you promised her that you wouldn't. The bitter sting of salty tears burns your eyes and runs rivers down the slopes of your cheeks.

You lied.

Another promise broken.

They told you before you saw her. You saw her and you broke. Mind and body shattered into a million pieces -your heart suffering the worst of it. On your knees you tried desperately to collect the pieces of you which remained -but never will they look the same.

You were a mess and she was gone.

You were broken and she was finally at peace.

But what pays the price of peace? Because in that moment a tormented body did not sound just. If you hadn't known any better, you would have believed black to be her favourite colour. Thick dark splotches covered a great deal of her body. Inky marks bleeding into the creases of her hands, dripping a black rain onto the soil - _her_ soil.

These lands belonged to her. But these lands took her from all of which loved her -took her from _you_. She always told you - _warned_ you -that she'd do what was best for her people. You are her people.

You _were_.

But anger spikes in your veins; pulses deep and heavy. Red flows guiltily from one end to the other, much like guilty thoughts of blame and fault.

How could she?

How could she leave you in a world that calls for your death; your pain; your suffering. It's not fair. Her selfish actions took the most important thing from your life. She left you alone and you can't help feeling the need -the _want_ -to blame her for it.

But you can't.

Because your heart still beats to the rhythm of her name spoken on soft, breathy gasps released into the cool air; kept warm only beneath her body, scarred, yet firm and quivering under your touch. She revealed herself to you under the safety of blackened nights and empty tents. She was young once.

She was too young.

You hid away with her in secrecy. Bruised lips and collarbones disguised by the harsh reality of this world. White teeth scrap across damaged skin, claiming you as hers; but there was never any question.

As a leader, she had to perform her duty. As yours, she could be herself. She was soft. She'd hold you in the night in a comforting embrace, close to her chest - _closer_ to her heart. A steady pattern thumping against your ear, spelling out; _I love you_. She carved messages of love into your heart for every time she couldn't speak the words. But you knew. You had always known.

Time is a virtue; and under the stars of which you used to call home, she gave everything to you. Warm palms worshipped pale skin under the moonlight. She looked at you as if you had saved her, when it was really you who had been saved. But she looked at you and nothing else mattered. The stars had met the ground and that was all there was to it. She held you upon her thighs when you shook against her body and cried into the sky. She kissed you and you knew; you would be the death of her. From chapped lips she spoke;

Y _ou are my weakness,_

_And I want to be weak._

Fresh blood upon cold, pale skin broke you from your reverie. The lifeless figure of the one you loved too real for your mind to be mistaken. Fine strands of her chestnut hair catch upon a rush of wind, tangling amongst her lashes and across her blue lips. Lips which sealed promises of return and pressed wishes of love and forgiveness into your own. You almost expected her to flinch

Your eyes mapped the details of her face; studying every inch as if it were to be the last time - _it will be_. They returned to irreplaceable features you had once spent hours upon hours exploring and memorising at a sweeter time.

You remember brushing soft finger tips across the bridge of her nose, then beneath her eyes, as if to will away the evidence of stress and little sleep. Gentle fingers scratching down her jaw line -sharp and defined. Death must be playing cruel jokes on you, as she still remained beautiful even in eternal sleep.

It was easy to try to convince yourself that she was only resting; home from a tough fight fought valiantly.

It was easier than saying goodbye.

Goodbye was to mean forever. You know you're not quite prepared for that.

You swipe away a stray drop of black from its resting place at the corner of her lips. You look and observe. You look at the life you were fortunate enough to have made with her. You look at the life you were supposed to continue with her. You look at her. Pushed and pulled and ripped apart at every seam.

But she did it for you.

She _always_ did it for you.

Your lips betray you and they tremble and clamping them between your teeth is futile. Your eyes flutter, trying in vain to blink away the errant tears spilling from the corners.

_You shouldn't cry._

I have to.

_You shouldn't._

She used to whisper words of strength under a patient gaze. You used to whisper them too. She wished for you to become strong and you wished the same of her. You just wanted her to love you. She did. She loved you for a long time before you knew what you were feeling in return.

But you had led with your head, another lesson your love had taught you along the way. Pain and suffering stemmed from the heart and the way it chips and cracks apart when we are hurting -we can avoid that. It's not easy. In fact, you had failed. Too paralysed by haunted forest green eyes which glowed at sundown and captured you within their gaze. You led with your head, but you succumbed to your heart.

You would fight when the room emptied and the full moon would taunt and tease of horror filled nights and unresolved ache. They were petty and forgotten by the time morning rays peaked through sheer curtains upon bare backs and inked skin. Sometimes they were heavy and the anger weighed you both down like bricks pressing upon your shoulders, feet sunken into the floor -stuck.

Leaving wasn't always as easy as just turning away. The yelling would continue and the pounding of damaged hearts would stutter a broken pattern. But you couldn't look away. Not even when the sharp tingling sensation in your palm was made aware of by the matching red and swollen print pressed surely into the side of her face. You couldn't even look away as your guilt overflowed and spilled from your eyes -yearning for her to see -to know, how sorry you truly were.

She was forgiving and she was a kind soul. She understood you more than you would ever know.

More than you _can_ ever know.

But now she's gone and she won't be coming back and your hand still tingles.

You used to have dreams - _nightmares_ -which painted your eyelids in vicious swirls of black and red. You were haunted by still bodies soaked in the smell of death. You would hear children crying and mothers weep for their yongon laid to rest in the blood of war. You saw the sky on fire as the tree tops burned and Polis crumbled. All that remained was the ash left behind by broken innocence and destroyed futures. You watched as the Heda's spirit left Lexa's body and vanished amongst smoke and desolation. You watched her burn. But you couldn't wake up.

You wish you could pinch yourself and wake up from this horrid dream. You wish it were a possibility. But reality has a cruel way of reminding you of what's real and what is just an illusion and unfortunately, this was very real.

Maybe Polis hadn't burned in the way of which you had imagined, but it crumbled at the news of her death. She was a visionary -a leader who would bring them safe passage. She was the heart and soul of an _entire_ civilisation. How do you come back from that?

How do _you_ get over that?

But as you stood and watched the pyre burn under the guidance of the stars, you understood what she had told you so long ago. Love _is_ a weakness. Love is the ghost that calls to you in the dark, urging you closer until you fall into its depths and you can't leave. It invades your mind -love possesses you. You can feel it. Curled within your heart, expanding, reaching every part of you. It grips you, its hold onto you tight. But it's dormant. Until it's not. Until it scales the walls of your oesophagus and spills from your lips, words of forewarning, words whispered into the wind. Words you never would have spoken of. Toxic.  

But she created this creature inside of you, which feasted on what she felt for you. Now she's gone and its hungry. It howls into the night and yearns for what will not be returned.

You can feel their eyes on you like knives into the back of your skull. Cautious, careful -unwanted. Their gazes, imploring. They want to see you react. They want to know what this means. What does the great _Wanheda_ do when her very soul is stripped bare before them.

You wouldn't know. You are just as lost and confused as those around you. No leader. No protection. No strength.

Weak.

Vulnerable.

How long will it take before you can feel her presence beside you again? Because you feel nothing. You are staring into the void. There is nothing left to keep you grounded. It hurts, but it's dull, a continuous pounding echoing within -you just want it to go away. _Please_. You are begging.

It won't leave. For as long as you hold onto her, you will ache. But what choice do you have? Submit to the heartache and the truth or forget? It isn't a question.

How can you forget?

You will _never_ forget.

And so the cycle repeats. Two souls in existence, separated by the stars, calling -yearning for the other. But time is measured in great distances and it is rare they'll collide again. An eternity spent apart and an eternity lived with broken hearts and shattered souls.

She loved you once.

She'll love you forever.

And you'll never know.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published work on here and first for clexa. So leave a comment -maybe some feedback, places to improve. I'll accept it all.   
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
